book from him, laughing. Complete Idiot's Guide to Fixing Classic Cars. "It just might."
"You need anything else, you know where we are," Chris said, motioning to the garage.
They climbed into the car, and Matty set out onto the road, driving back to the house. He said nothing until they got there, until he unloaded the parts behind the house.
"You really think you got this?" Matty asked, dropping the last box by the back door.
Genna's gaze glossed over the car. "Pfft, piece of cake." Oh…"Do we have any cake? I could go for some."
"Of course," Matty said. "I brought some angel food cake home from work yesterday."
She scowled. "That's not cake. Cake has frosting. And sprinkles. And it's chocolate, hopefully. Angel food is a dessert bread."
"Well then, how about we have some dessert bread and I pick your brain about this project of yours."
"Deal," she said, "but only if I can pick your brain, too."
"About?"
"About what the hell an actuator is."
Chapter Thirteen
"Order up!"
Matty slid the plate of French toast onto the pass beside the stack of pancakes for Doris to deliver to a table. He wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his tattooed arm, grateful to have a second to collect himself.
It wasn't hard work, it wasn't manual labor, but he wouldn't call it easy, either. It was work, real work, for a genuine paycheck.
A degree in communications and a cushy job keeping up the family books hadn't prepared him for spending eight hours a day on his feet, sweating over a hot grill, smelling like food by the time the day was over.
"Order," Doris said, appearing on the other side of the pass, a baffled expression on her face. She looked almost shell-shocked for some reason. "Hashbrowns smothered in onions, peppers, mushrooms, and cheese... excuse me, extra cheese... and a three-egg omelet, also with onions, peppers, mushrooms, and extra cheese. The gentleman requested I tell you, and I quote... uh... fuck 'em up good... whatever that means. He seems a bit of a weird one. He also asked for a Roman Coke, but I told him the only Coke we served was made here in America. He seemed to think that was funny."
Matty stared at Doris, his blood running cold at those words, while she laughed it off, clipping the ticket to a hook and spinning it toward him. He stood there for a moment, after Doris walked away with the plates from the pass. Sickness churned through him, but he tried to push it down, holding himself together as he worked on the order, not wanting to cause a scene. His gaze flickered to the clock near the pass. His shift was over in twenty minutes.
He wouldn't last that long.
As soon as the food was done, he set it aside. "Order up!"
Doris grabbed the plate, and Matty's gaze trailed her to a booth in the back left corner. Carefully, he untied his apron and tossed it aside before strolling through the diner, leading there. He passed Doris along the way but didn't look at her, not wanting to explain. Every footstep sent his heart racing, and every pound of his heart made him even queasier.
His vision blurred from a rush of adrenaline by the time he reached the booth.
Sliding into it, he looked across the table at a face he hadn't expected to see again so soon. Gavin Amaro. He was the only one who knew where to find them, who knew where they had gone.
"This," Gavin said, pointing to his plate with his fork, "wasn't worth the trip. Five and a half hours on a plane, another hour in a car, and you couldn't even fuck 'em up good for me. You ought to be ashamed."
"I am," Matty said. "Deeply mortified."
Gavin took a bite as he met Matty's eyes. His expression softened, a smile touching his lips. "It's good to see you, Matty-B."
"You, too, Gavin. A bit worrisome, though."
"I figured," Gavin said. "Don't panic. Nobody knows where I am. The Prodigal Son and the Ice Princess are still safe with their happily ever after… for now."
"That's a contradiction."
"Yeah, well, isn't life? It sure doesn't make any damn sense to me. But I'm not here about you. Just needed to talk to you."
"You couldn't call?"
"I thought about it, almost did it a few times, but it's not something you tell someone over the phone."
Matty's chest tightened. "Something happen to my father?"
"No, still the same coldhearted Uncle Bobby."
"Primo?"
"Still homicidal."
"Uncle Johnny? Aunt Lena?"
"They're fine."
Matty's frown deepened. "So, what happened?